


Blanket Talk

by ZoeMontrose



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscommunication, Nesting, Obvious Yuuri is obvious, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Omegaverse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Protective Victor Nikiforov, Scenting, courting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-08 13:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11647170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeMontrose/pseuds/ZoeMontrose
Summary: Yuuri can make his inner Alpha purr with one of his small smiles, can make it flinch and bare his neck in submission with a single disapproving glance and Viktor wants, wants, wants Yuuri close to him and only him. Wants to hide him away from the rest of the world to keep him safe.Or how Viktor is not very good at decision-making and needs to work on his impulse control





	1. Chapter 1

Viktor doesn’t really know why he did that.

It’s not his place. It’s far from appropriate.

But he hadn’t been able to help himself. 

He’d felt proud and happy and the tiniest bit guilty when the woman behind the counter had praised him for shopping for his partner and “Oh it’s not often you see an Alpha buying nesting material for his mate”. His chest had swelled and he’d thrown her his most charming smile and winked and “Oh well then most Alphas are missing out!” And they certainly are if they don’t spoil their mates like Viktor wants to spoil Yuuri! 

Only that Yuuri isn’t his mate. 

They are not even courting. 

But the blanket has little poodles along the seam and it’s so soft and something had curled up and purred in Viktor’s chest at the thought of Yuuri being surrounded and comforted by something that Viktor had bought him during his heat. Except he’s not sure Yuuri will want a nesting blanket from Viktor. Because, alas, they are not mates. 

So he had confidently strutted into the nesting shop anyway as if he had every right to buy Yuuri down feather filled fluffy pillows or fuzzy blankets. He’d barely been able to resist scenting it a bit before the woman had folded it into his bag and had ignored his conscious having a meltdown in the back of his head. 

But what’s done is done and now Viktor stands outside of their dorm with the brown paper bag hanging limply from his arm. It’s a brown paper bag because Yuuri had mentioned once that the thought of poor animals getting tangled up in discarded plastic bags makes him cry so Viktor as a responsible Alpha with complete control of his impulses had banned all plastic bags to the back of his closet and bought two linen bags he dutifully uses every Friday when he does his and Chris’ grocery shopping. The fact that he knows it’s Yuuri’s shift at the till from exactly one to five pm has got nothing to do with that. 

He’d bought paper bags too, the first time he’d shown up with his economical linen bag and Yuuri had commented on them in his sweet little voice to tell him how responsible Viktor was being. 

So now he’s standing here with one of those, the corner torn and a fat dried watermark on one side where his bottle had leaked a week ago. He could just go inside, casually knock at Yuuri’s and Phichit’s dorm say “Oh hey I saw this and thought of you”. But then he’ll also have to mention that he thought of Yuuri in heat and snuggled up with something Viktor bought him and he’s not sure how his cute little Yuuri will react to that. He’s seen him cry because a kid’s cookie fell into a puddle once. And he is sure this is a bigger thing than a stranger’s cookie. At least for him it is. 

Viktor sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, the other hand still gripping the bag filled with regrets and his non-existent impulse control when the door to the dorm building opens to reveal the occupant of Viktor’s day and night thoughts stumbling outside wearing a too big and worn thin t-shirt and sweatpants.

Yuuri looks dishevelled, his black hair a bird’s nest atop his head, blue rimmed glasses crooked on his nose and his eyes squinty with sleep. There is the imprint of a pillow on his right cheek and a tiny remaining trace of drool in the corner of his lips. 

Viktor is so in love. He wants to wake up to this sight one day.

There’s an awkward pause in which neither of them speak, Yuuri blinking the sleep out of his eyes and is it weird that Viktor hasn’t looked at a watch in a couple of hours but knows that it’s precisely fifteen minutes past eleven am because that’s the usual time Yuuri comes stumbling out of his dorm room on Saturdays to scout the dorm kitchen for coffee and a snack? 

“Oh. Hi. Hi, Viktor.” 

Viktor resists the urge to ask him to say his name like that again. The way only Yuuri can say it, like it’s something soft and precious, something worthy of being said like it means something deeply to him. Viktor wants to curl up and make himself a nest in the warmth of Yuuri’s voice and the depth of his eyes. 

“Hey. Long day again yesterday?” 

Viktor knows it was. He knows because he visited the library trice yesterday to sneak Yuuri something sweet and something to drink under the watchful eye of the librarian that has learned better than to take her eyes off of Viktor. He’s just been worried! Yuuri tends to forget to take care of himself while he is studying. 

Viktor is answered by an eyeroll and a mix of a whine and grunt while Yuuri struggles with the lock of the mailbox with his and his roommate’s name on it. The hinges are a bit rusted. Viktor wonders if he should offer to change them for him. Not that he knows how to, the only thing he has ever changed are the sheets on his bed but Google is a good and close friend of his and sure not to disappoint. 

“I don’t understand why they have to force use to learn about the theories of data assessment that haven’t been relevant for fifty years now. I mean, I want to be a child’s psychologist, not a historian.” Yuuri huffs and gives up on the lock, obviously still too bleary with sleep to care too much about the contents of their mailbox. Viktor files away the image of Yuuri with children to ponder about later and offers him a heart shaped smile. “And you went shopping already?”

Shopping.

Right. 

The bag.

That bag.

With the blanket. That blanket.

Right. 

Now is a good moment as any to confess his sins and hope Yuuri doesn’t think he’s the creep Viktor knows deep down he is about Yuuri. Viktor’s not sure where to start about his sins though because he’s aware that the list rolls all the way down to the crappy corner store where he’s bought instant ramen so many times the cashier doesn’t even pretend not to know his name anymore. So instead he clears his throat and nods. 

“Yeah. Just a little something. For myself.” 

They trudge up the steps and inside together and Viktor dutifully follows Yuuri into the kitchen where the coffee is lazily dripping into the coffee pot. Yuuri’s usual morning mug of tea is steaming besides it. Viktor smiles softly because he knows he still can’t pronounce its name. He does try to, though, sometimes because it makes Yuuri smile and giggle and correct him. 

They sit together at the table, Yuuri stirring his tea and Viktor watching him wake up slowly. The way his eyes grow more alert, brighter even. The way his back straightens like someone slowly and precariously twists it back into shape. The way his fingers grow nimble where they play with the spoon. He sighs again. He’s gone for Yuuri, gone so far he can hear Russia congratulating him for being the first man outside of their planetary system before the Americans.

Around them the kitchen slowly fills. First is Phichit who looks just as drowsy as Yuuri did earlier, then Chris who glances from the bag Viktor is cradling to his chest up to his face and already knows too much. Then again Chris has heard Viktor during his rut more than once and knows about his… little crushTM on Yuuri. 

Later he’ll shove The Bag deep into his closet where it’ll join its plastic brothers and will forget all about the blanket, Viktor tries to convince himself. Maybe take it out for his rut to cling to and whine pathetically into.

Later though. 

For now he sets it down by his chair and accepts the cup of coffee Yuuri hands him, accompanied by one of those small smiles that Viktor collects and stores away in the deepest part of his heart for bad days. He downs it in two big gulps to hide the fluttering feeling in his chest he is sure can be seen displayed freely on his face whenever he is around Yuuri. 

There’s just something about the Omega that draws him in. Something that makes him hover just over Yuuri’s shoulder when he’s cutting up vegetables, one hand firmly on the doggie covered plasters he carries in his pocket with him. Something that has him offer his one and only pen after Yuuri lost his entire pencil case and accept the inevitable that consists of begging Chris for his notes. 

Something that has more power over the Alpha in his chest than Viktor has himself. Not that he deludes himself into thinking he has much control over himself to begin with. But Yuuri… Yuuri can make his inner Alpha purr with one of his small smiles, can make it flinch and bare his neck in submission with a single disapproving glance and Viktor wants, wants, wants Yuuri close to him and only him. Wants to hide him away from the rest of the world to keep him safe. 

He remembers the one time he lost control because of Yuuri, too. That time Yuuri had come back to the dorm covered in dirt and grass stains and with tears clinging to his long lashes. Remembers the hot burning of fury in his veins because someone had dared to hurt what is his. His muscles had locked up and he’d snarled at Phichit and Chris, had bared his fangs and clouded the room with his aggressive scent like a newly presented Alpha, had tucked and folded Yuuri into the crooks of his chest and neck and rubbed his scent glands to wash wave after wave of calming pheromones over him to soothe the Omega trembling in his arms. 

They had fallen asleep like that on the couch. Yuuri in a pheromone induced haze, purring softly and Viktor glaring at their friends that dared to enter the room. 

He’d woken up alone and gone on a two-hour long walk. Yuuri hadn’t ever brought it up and the rest of the dorm had done the same so Viktor had slunk back to his room to be embarrassed in peace for a while and had emerged with his mind bleached and a brave smile. 

He doesn’t want to overwhelm Yuuri with his affection. Not like back then, not when it had taken weeks for Yuuri to look him into the eyes again. 

He’ll take it slow.

For now he’ll enjoy the sight of Yuuri sitting and laughing opposite to him, warming his hands on his tea and occasionally their eyes will meet over the counter and maybe it’s Viktor’s imagination but Yuuri’s eyes are warm and deep and fond.

He’ll take it slow.


	2. Chapter 2

Recent Search History Today  
\- how to subtly court  
\- how so sutly court  
\- Courting in Japan  
\- traditional Courting methods  
\- How to successfully court  
\- How to court an Omega 21th century  
\- How to court an Omega  
\- Ainsworth Binding theory  
\- Bowlby’s Binding theory  
\- Who’s Bowlby  
Yesterday  
Last Week  
  
Viktor knows it’s time to take a break when he finally ends up on “10 successful courtship rules” with more emojis than words and his hand is cramping up around his pen. It’s a little bit past 3am, there’s nacho crumbs sticking to his cheek and his silvery bangs are pulled into a single ponytail that hangs like a limp palm tree into his forehead. There’s a half finished essay about the psychological binding theories aggressively blinking at him in his opened word document that he’s supposed to hand in tomorrow, but selective attention and ignoring things he doesn’t want to notice are some of Viktor’s fort so with a low sigh he minimizes his latest tab and leans back.

Viktor closes his eyes for a second, reaching up to rub the persistent kink in his neck and flexing his fingers to loosen them out of their cramped state. The pen he’s stolen from Chris rolls lazily over his notes and clatters to the ground in an appropriate representation of his current mental state. He feels pathetic.

And a bit embarrassed. To notice how… little he knows about courtship. Sure, yes, there had been Omegas in the past he’d had a passing interest in but… courting? He's only really noticed his lack of knowledge this passing week as the days had rolled by and Viktor had barely caught sight of Yuuri a handful of times which had left him coiled tense like a spring with too much suppressed energy. Energy that stemmed of fantasies of a future with Yuuri as his. Only for him to come up empty minded when he had finally sat down to actually think about how he wanted to accomplish that.

At least the internet articles are on his level, he thinks wryly, staring at the tip of “ _Make sure you know the Person you want to court_ ” and drawing slow circles with his thumb on the piece of paper where his notes rise and dent the paper in angry welts. At least he can proudly say that he’s passed that first tip already. Now it’s on to tackle tip two: “ _Make sure the Person you want to court is aware of it_ ”.

That’s where the problem really lies. He wants to be subtle about it, test the waters before he might accidentally hurt or scare Yuuri with his advances. He knows the small Omega is a private person, doesn’t like to be the centre of attention and overwhelming him is the last thing Viktor wants.

Then there is Viktor, Viktor who doesn’t know how to do subtle even if he tries. There’s nothing subtle about him! He doesn’t painstakingly pick his clothes in the morning with the thought of subtlety in mind, doesn’t enter a room with the intention of being subtle about it. He drives a hot pink convertible! Hell he hadn’t been too sure how to write the word until he had google searched it! Subtlety simple isn’t… Viktor.

But he’s willing to give that part of himself up for Yuuri. He’s willing to try at least.

The ache in his eyes tells him it’s time for sleep now and to continue his restless pining in the morning. With another sigh Viktor accepts his fate of waking up earlier to finish his essay and saves the halfway completed mess of typos, closing his three tabs and shutting his laptop down. The stiffness in his joints makes itself known by letting loose a cascade of cracking sounds as he stands and it taking him three times to successfully unlock his phone to regretfully adjust his alarm to an hour earlier.

Oh, if only Yuuri could see how willing Viktor is to suffer for the chance of courting him!  


 

* * *

  
  
  
Viktor hates himself.

He especially hates himself on mornings after late nights where he went to sleep at 3:37am.

Due to feeling especially pitiful that morning with his unfinished essay that’s going to give him binding problems (he’s not sure if that’s possible as alas he has not written the essay and consequently has no idea what the topic covers exactly) he goes looking for human affection and sympathy in the kitchen by planting himself and his laptop at the table and staring mournfully at the empty coffee pot.

Chris, the cold hearted monster, looks unimpressed. Altogether Chris must have had a very bad night because it takes three longsuffering sighs until Chris plops down next to him with his own halfway finished coffee cup to pat his back in a half-hearted show of kinship for Viktor’s suffering.

Viktor makes sure Chris knows he’s pouting for taking so long by painstakingly slowly typing a couple of sentences whose meaning he doesn’t understand and saving the essay with another dramatic sigh. Then finally he turns his attention to his friend.

“What’s happened.” Viktor feels insulted enough by the fact that Chris phrases it as an amused statement and not as a question to steal the rest of his lukewarm coffee. It’s black, which is disgusting, and lowers Viktor’s current ranking of Chris as his best friend down to “ _Simple Friend_ ”.

“I don’t know how to do this.” He whines, setting the empty cup down on the table. There’s traces of yesterday’s dinner left behind on the surface, a couple hints of curry dried into sticky messes and hardened bread crumbs. He sympathises.

“Don’t know how to write an essay or how to be a functional adult being?”

Chris is on a strong way to “ _Acquaintance_ ”.

Viktor pointedly turns away from him again to safe his essay on which he has done absolutely no changes once more, then closes it. That leaves the “How to properly court” search result tab open for Chris to stare at and figure out Viktor's problem on his own. It’s weird how Viktor has no shame to strut around their dorm naked and share with Chris their preferred rut relief methods but this leaves behind the sting of red in his cheeks and a low churning of embarrassment in his stomach.

Next to him Chris shifts to get a better look at the screen, wordlessly scrolling up and down to check which ones of the links Viktor has clicked on. Viktor graciously overhears the snort when Chris reaches the second side of results.

“My, you have it bad.” Viktor shrugs because it’s true, silently handing Chris the notes he took the night before, but keeps the pen because he’s petty and Chris looks way too smug. Though for all of his dramatics Viktor is aware that he’ll need help with this. And while Chris might drink his coffee black and has questionable clothing choices sometimes he is also Viktor’s best friend and he trusts him.

“So you finally want to do it? Court Yuuri properly?” Viktor watches Chris skim over the notes, adverts his eyes because even he knows it’s stupid and childish and embarrassing but he wants to do this right! And he’s willing to sacrifice his dignity, if that’s what it takes.

A quick look to the entrance way to make sure Yuuri’s shoes are gone because Viktor is sure that stumbling into the kitchen to see your dormmate begging his best friend to help him court you does not fall under the categories of “Subtle” or “Not-Overwhelming.” Yuuri’s favourite beat up sneakers are gone though and so is his backpack with the adorable doggie patch so Viktor takes a deep breath and nods.

“Yes.” He hesitates a moment, tucks his bangs behind his ear only for them to fall straight back into his eyes. “But I need to do this the right way, Chris. I don’t… I can’t take risks.” Yuuri is something… someone Viktor does not want to risk losing by ignorantly stumbling his way around this.

They sit in silence for a while staring at each other, Chris’ face mimicking the seriousness of Viktor’s. Finally Chris breaks the eye contact to skim the notes once more.

“Alright. You know, I’m glad you are taking this seriously. Yuuri is a good friend and he deserves more than you throwing on your sunglasses and reciting lines you think are suave because you read them in a book some time.” In Viktor’s opinion Yuuri deserves a lot more than that too. Like… A throne, maybe. Or an island. He crosses the “Impress with cool sunglasses”-point off of his mental list.

They don’t have time to delve deeper into the topic of “How do I court someone I’ve had a not so lowkey crush on for almost a year and who is also a close friend” because Viktor is late already as he is and the accusing essay really needs to be copied and pasted now.

Chris and he text during the day, coming up with and discarding ideas. Viktor wants to do something romantic, builds up an idea and loses himself in the planning only for Chris to tell him to tone it down which then throws them back to the beginning. It's a circle that repeats itself until Viktor's mind feels like a buzzing bees' nest that's lost its queen, a jumbled clutter of increasingly frustrated sound and panic.

By the time late afternoon rolls around Viktor is done for, draped across the table top in his lecture hall and staring blankly at the professor droning on and on without pause. His notes lie discarded by his side, mindless doodles filling the margin and keeping his frustrated energy at bay.

At least it's Friday which means he will get to see Yuuri later at the till of the grocery store if he hurries to catch the end of Yuuri's shift. Those big brown eyes had never failed to soothe him before and with a deep, aching longing in his chest Viktor closes his eyes and draws the mental image of Yuuri, the gentle slope of his lips and the cute wrinkle between his brows when he's concentrating. There's that little dimple on his right cheek Viktor longs to caress one day. Maybe he can play it off as a casual touch during dinner some time? Just casually reach over and brush some crumbs off of the sweet Omega's cheek? That's something friends do, right?

Wait.

Dinner!

Viktor's head shoots up from the table top, the wood of his chair letting lose an evil screech at the abrupt movement and his elbow knocks his precariously placed water bottle off his table to the ground. The clattering sound helps to reign in his excited spirit before he loses what little control he has over himself left today and does something embarrassing like complimenting himself out loud for his brilliance. He does give his own shoulder two pats though.

Dinner!

Of course, dinner! They have had dinner so often together in the dorm that he hadn't even thought of it as a part of courting and taking Yuuri out had seemed too forward for testing the waters and wanting to start small.

But a home cooked dinner! Yes!

He will cook something delicious for Yuuri, they'll sit together and Viktor will feed him little bites with his spoon and they will look each other in the eyes and Yuuri will realise that Viktor is the perfect Alpha for him!

Viktor's leg bounces restlessly beneath the table, hands scrambling to gather his things so he won't waste a single second once the lecture ends. They are dismissed and Viktor walks as quickly as he can, not running because that would seem desperate and while he is very much desperate there is a reputation he has to keep.

His heart beat picks up with every meter Viktor comes closer to the store, a cute little family owned grocery store that sells only biological products and exhausts Viktor's student budget regularly. It's not that he can taste a difference between organic or crappy aubergines, they look the same anyway after he's burned them blackish in a pan except that one costs trice as much. But he likes to believe that food Yuuri sells has to be better! And seeing him smiling up at Viktor from the till is always a plus point!

Viktor exits the campus and jaywalks across the street, past the crappy corner store, his Ramen Dealer, and towards the friendly little shop nestled in between a café and a florist.

Flowers!

Should he buy Yuuri flowers?

He stops, considers, lifts a hand to the angry bicycle rider who's path he's blocking and finally decides that flowers are always a good idea.

He'll pick some up for their dinner.

The grocery store is mercifully cool, offering a sweet escape from the heat outside. Viktor checks his hair in one of the mirrors above the vegetable section and turns his head this and that way to make sure he looks impeccable. The last thing he needs is to run around with something drawn on his face again because Chris thought it had been funny not to tell Viktor. It had led to Yuuri pointing it out and carefully wiping it away for him though when Viktor had kept missing the one insisting spot beneath his ear.

Well looking at it from that point... For the briefest second Viktor entertains the thought of using his (newly bought) pen to draw a little something on his cheek.

But then he catches sight of Yuuri through the mirror and his heart does a little jump in his chest like it just discovered that yes, it is beating, and yes, it is beating entirely for that beautiful man. His hands grow clammy by his sides no matter how much he wipes them on his jeans and he lowers his backpack to the ground to fish around for his linen bag, eyes glancing back and forth between the task of freeing the stubborn fabric from his notebook and Yuuri.

Yuuri who looks especially lovely today with a light flush to his cheeks and his brown eyes concentrated on the items moving across the till, flickering his wrist gracefully to swipe the scanner across the bar codes. Viktor has to actively stop himself from imagining what else Yuuri could do with such a hand movement.

Instead he takes a deep breath and shuffles deeper into the corner from which he can watch undetected, fully aware his own creepiness. But he has had a rough day and really does deserve something nice and watching Yuuri work is more than just nice. It's magnificent. God, for all Viktor cares Yuuri could be sitting in a chair breathing and it would be the most fascinating thing to watch, Viktor wouldn't be able to take his eyes off.

...Yuuri's chest does curve very elegantly when he breaths in.

Viktor shakes his head to get it out of whatever stupor that had gotten him into and armed with his linen bag scans the vegetable section. Maybe he can just mention his plans casually while paying?

" _Hey I thought about cooking dinner tomorrow evening. What do you think, we could eat together?"_ Maybe mention that he has been living off of instant food for the past week and hope that Yuuri is in the mood where his eyes grow big and then determined when hearing such blasphemous things.

Bless sweet little Yuuri who grew up with home cooked meals every day and still cooks his own dinner every evening.

Maybe he could buy him a restaurant?

A voice that sounds suspiciously like Chris calls him out on being a delusional idiot but he files it away under _Things I Don't Have To Put Up With Because I Am A Responsible Adult,_ which is the same location he keeps his impulse control and the memories of his seventh grade fashion choices and continues onwards in his quest of finding the perfect potato to impress Yuuri with when he comes to the counter.

Maybe that Chris voice does have some reason though.

Viktor shuffles through the store, occasionally glancing at the till to keep an eye on his Yuuri and gathers a colourful assortment of things he might use in the near future. There is the fact that Viktor is collectively banned from using the kitchen by all his dormmates (his argument that he is sure burnt toast is a delicacy somewhere had not helped) and Viktor wants their dinner to be perfect. But he'll find something easy yet delicious and if he has to call his mother to help he will do it! He's ready, come what may!

What he is in fact not ready for though is Yuuri and the way his face brightens up when he spots Viktor, his hand lifting in a wave. Even his cute wave is graceful...

Viktor manages not to trip on his way over, piling his collection of groceries on the conveyor belt like a proud dragon showing off its hoard and filling the space between them with mindless chatter about classes and oh it's so hot today and Yuuri returns the favour by telling him about the dogs he'd seen today and the one he even got to pet.

By the time Viktor is done cooing over the precious puppies Yuuri described to him all his items are scanned, most of which don't fit into his single linen bag. Viktor sees the chance and decides to take it, bypassing the plastic bags underneath the till and grabbing another one of the linen bags stored away next to them. Yes, see that, Yuuri? That is what a responsible Alpha looks like!

He hides his wince at the final sum of money behind a brave smile and tells himself he'll explain his brilliant idea to Chris later and hope he'll understand when they split the bill as usually.

He pays and they tinker off into awkward silence, Viktor hovering behind the counter and Yuuri watching him expectedly. The Alpha licks his lips when Yuuri's brows rise in confusion.

"So..." Yuuri draws the word out and glances behind Viktor where a middle aged lady with a questionable haircut is waiting to pay, her fake plastic nails clicking impatiently against her shopping cart. Yuuri's glasses are sliding off his nose when he turns back to Viktor, blinking his large eyes up at the Alpha, his fingers itching to push them back up his nose.

"Yes! You see, I was thinking I could cook." He pauses, thinks about the phrasing but the amused tilt in Yuuri's smile is doing wonders to distract him.

"I think you proved that wrong already." The tilt quirks into a full smile and Viktor's heart skips a beat for every wrinkle that appears in the corner of Yuuri's eyes. It skips two more when the dimple briefly appears in the corner of his right cheek. The words fail to offend him, delivered by that sweet mouth and really it's not as if Yuuri is wrong. The stain that they never managed to get out of the ceiling is proof of that.

"I meant for us. I thought I could cooking dinner for us. Tomorrow. You know, nothing fancy. Just... a little something." He knows that Yuuri's got a study group in the afternoon and won't be eating because he'll forget, so really it's only Viktor taking care of him and looking after his wellbeing. "We have all been so busy and I thought it would be nice to have dinner together."

Yuuri's face softens and while he still looks amused he seems to be giving in.

"Okay. Yeah. That sounds nice."

Viktor does refrain himself from fist pumping the air. Barely.

"Okay. Yeah. Uh... around seven?"

Another nod, shy and sweet and all for Viktor. He imprints the image into his brain and holds it there for his selfish moments of greed when he wants and wants and can't satisfy the longing.

"Excuse me, but people would like to buy their groceries here! I have not time for this, how unprofessional to flirt on the job!" They jolt out of their little moment (had it been a moment?) and Viktor gives an awfully friendly wave and smile at the lady, grabs his groceries and huffs his way to the exit.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Yuuri!"

There's a flush on Yuuri's cheeks that mirrors the heat in Viktor's chest and the violent thrumming of his heart as he quietly murmurs that Viktor is a friend and they were not flirting, apologising in his soft voice.

Viktor dismisses the words as well as that the cause for the flush is embarrassment on Yuuri's part and leaves the store with his spirit high and butterflies battling the increasing doom in his chest.

Now he only has to learn how to cook without burning down a room in less than 24 hours.

Ah, the things he does for a chance at love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you guys
> 
> First of all, WOW! I did not expect this feedback! I literally sat in front of my laptop (haflway to despair because I should be studying for my exams) grinning like an idiot and jumping around! Thank you very much for your support and kind words! You have no idea what that means for me! 
> 
> I had already uploaded this chapter earlier but there was a problem with the formatting so don't be confused if you got a notification but there was no new chapter! 
> 
> Please continue to give me feedback and constructive criticism so I can improve. 
> 
>  
> 
> Kudos & Comments feed my smol bunny heart :)


	3. Chapter 3

Viktor had learned from his mistakes and goes to sleep early. Not that he can actually fall asleep, no, he's too nervous and tosses from side to side for what feels like hours until the covers have rubbed his naked hip bone sore. He finds himself lying on his back, staring wide eyed at the ceiling with all limbs stretched out like a particularly sticky starfish.

There's not a single comfortable sleeping position and his blanket is too thick which, paired with his party-throwing nerves makes him break out into a sweat until the fabric clings uncomfortably to him and the room begins to smell of agitated and restless Alpha.

Irritated and what feels like dripping beads of sweat Viktor abandons his blanket in a heap at the foot of his bed and stalks to his closet, muscles taunt with crackling unused energy. The paper bag tears in the spot where the water mark had been, the paper soft and frail from use but Viktor can't bring himself to care. He can always buy new bags.

Then finally he falls asleep not too much later curled up underneath poodle seamed softness, pacified by the feeling of being close to something that will belong to his Omega.

Viktor wakes up around 11am, feeling sluggish, sticky and sleepy. It's not a problem though because he has to stay in his room and wait until a sleepy Yuuri shuffles his way past his bedroom to go meet his study group in the library anyway.

Otherwise he might go and take one look at that rumpled and soft thing standing in their living space and latch on without any plans of letting go soon. Maybe just wait until they grow together. And while that sounds like a marvellous idea he's got stuff to do. Things to cook. Yuuris to impress!

So he lies awake and listens to the stumbling footsteps, the few grunted words of a sleep soft and grumpy Yuuri in the kitchen and allows himself to imagine what it would be like to wake up some day to have that sight all to himself. Viktor would wake up early and-... no. He _will._ He will wake up early and make his Yuuri his cup of coffee to wake up and then his cup of tea, just the way he likes it. He'll nuzzle him awake and listen to that sleepy voice mumbling to him. He'll curl around him and offer him warmth and safety and-...

Viktor's eyes shoot open and he takes a deep breath, willing his fantasies of the future away. No need to get lost in them now when he could very well be working for their fulfilment!

So instead he swings himself out of bed after the soft click of the front door closing sounds through his door and pads into the bathroom where he makes sure to clean up nicely which means he showers until Chris is banging on the door because he's making him late, brushes his teeth twice (he'll do it once more before their date in the evening. It is a Date!) and files his nails into shape. He only hesitates once he's got his razor in hand.

Yuuri did mention some time ago that he liked Viktor with light stubbles. It had been early morning, a lazy Sunday, and Viktor had not been awake enough to appreciate the nimble fingers stroking over his jawline until much later after he'd had his second cup of coffee. He does remember sleepily leaning into the touch and regrets not being awake enough to enjoy the moment properly.

Fact is though: Yuuri's word is law.

It's a bit scary, really.

Viktor doesn't know when exactly it happened, he can't remember there being a certain timespan from which on his life had started to resolve around Yuuri. Yuuri who is quite and gentle and polite and yet loud and fierce and determined all in one. Yuuri who quietly and gently and politely made himself a home in Viktor's heart and core without knowing about it.

Yuuri who loudly and fiercely and determinedly sticks to his every thought and vehemently refuses to leave Viktor's mess of a mind.

It's scary because Viktor is aware that the deep devotion he feels borders on obsession. He's caught himself enough times with his sharp fangs piercing his pillow during his rut growling out Yuuri's name and imagining his soft body beneath his own only to lie in shame later once the feverish haze had faded.

He's memorized his lectures and times, makes sure to catch lunch with him at least twice a week if they aren't busy even though their times don't overlap.

He's fended off enough other suitors with his aggressive scent and glares to make Yuuri feel undesired and while the guilt had burned him from the inside when he had to listen to Yuuri self consciously ask if he was unattractive because nobody approached him it had also filled him with satisfactory joy to be the one the small Omega sought out for assurance. Which he had given him. For hours. With a Powerpoint presentation. To make sure all points were cleared.

Chris had stopped him before he could spring a quiz on him to make sure Yuuri had listened to and memorized every single praise he had showered him with.

But that's not all. It's also scary because some day Viktor had woken up and known with a clarity he rarely encountered that if Yuuri asked it from him he would gladly jump off a building.

Or rather, save that stupid cat again that got stuck in the tree outside their dorm almost once a week and _"_ _Oh Viktor please just once more, I promise, I don't think she'll climb the tree again."_ And then Viktor will find himself outside in his pyjamas the next week after that again at ungodly hours to big begging brown eyes to safe The Spawn Of Hell who likes him about as much as Viktor likes orange coloured jeans.

He's got scratches up his arms. Scratches!

It's okay though because usually Yuuri smiles and calls them his war wounds to testify his act of bravery and sticks Viktor's poodle plasters on them since Viktor is _Weak_ and _Wounded_ and needs to be handled with care.

The Alpha tears himself out of his day dreams to catch the lopsided smile on his lips and a towel to the back of his neck courtesy of Chris for blocking the entire counter.

The razor and cream get banned to the back of his bathroom closet. He does have an awful tendency of hiding things in closets when it comes to Yuuri, he notices. The Blanket. His razor and cream. His crush. A great portion of his dignity. Every ounce of shame he had ever possessed. Might be worthy to look into that. Maybe propose it as his Bachelor Thesis... He's sure there's a logical psychological explanation.

That set of thoughts brings him back to his bedroom which he had aired out while showering to get rid of the clingy scent of the night before.

He wanders around aimlessly for a moment, straightening out the text book on his desk he paid way too much for and has never looked into and all in all trying to act as if the Blanket is not lying on his bed. So he carefully balances the dirty dishes in his arms and brings them into the kitchen, gathers the empty plastic wrappers of his study snacks and throws them out and finally sweeps his fingers across the backs of his books to clean them off of dust. He will have to acknowledge It sooner or later...

With a soft sigh Viktor turns and eyes the bed.

His pillow needs a fluffing up and his blanket smells of sweat and hormones so he throws it into the dirty laundry hamper before finally fixing his attention on the crumpled up blue softness that's lying in a rumpled mess on the bare sheets. His hands are gentle as he folds it, stroking over the nesting blanket until all wrinkles are cleaned out and returns it into The Bag to be hid again in the depths of his pitch of regrets. After all he can't present Yuuri with a messy gift to court him with once he gets to that, that simply won't do!

A tiny bit more of his dignity joins The Bag in the closet.

Though... he doesn't feel ashamed to realise how something Yuuri had never touched has managed to calm him down better than anything else just because he associates it with the younger man.

If anything he kind of expected that. Still, it's another sign of his obsession and he can already see himself lying awake at 3am pondering why he is such an extreme creep and why there are three es in Mercedes which are all being pronounced differently. Mostly he'll ponder about Yuuri though.

...that might make a good Thesis too.

After that last moment of calm the day finally truly does begin. And Viktor throws himself into it like a man abandoned in the desert on his way to the only water source.

(He is kind of thirsty. In every sense of the word.)

To the Alpha it doesn't matter that Yuuri knows about the dinner, Viktor still wants to make it a surprise, an occasion to remember as their first grand date on which they will look back some day with fond amusement when they are old and still in love. He wants to make it special, to impress.

The Alpha in his chest is stretched out and squinty eyed, pleased at the prospect of caring for his Omega, taking care of his needs and feeding him, providing for him.

It wants and wants and wants and so does Viktor.

But Viktor wants a lot of things and they don't always go as planned.

It starts with him not being able to find an appropriate recipe. Or well he finds countless _appropriate_ recipes but half the words written in them are unfamiliar to him and he's not in the mood to learn the difference between _mixing_ and _gently folding something in._ And who thought he would need a degree in advanced French to be able to cook anyway?

He should go with something safe, he decides. Just, there is nothing safe when it comes to Viktor and his culinary skills. A doubtful glance to the ceiling. 

The spot is still there.

It's turned a bit greenish...

Viktor does not need that kind of negativity in his life though and looks back down to google how to cook Undo. Apparently it's not called Undo.

He googles how to cook Udon.

It does sound simple. Doable. Even for him. And he's in the past burned water. Except that he does not own any Udon noodles. Or Chinese cabbage. Or oyster sauce.

Viktor is a genius that manages to surprise even himself sometimes with the depths of his airheadedness.

He wastes a good portion of midday that way, anxiously checking the clock every few minutes. Yuuri won't be home before their agreed time of seven he had said and while that still gives him enough time at the moment Viktor does not keep himself under the illusion to be good at time management. 

Organisation altogether is not his strongest point. It's not even one of his average points. 

With a couple of choice words directed at himself in Russian Viktor locks his phone and scouts his cabinets for his groceries, lining them up on the counter in front of him and giving them the evil eye. How is he supposed to impress Yuuri with beef filet and onions?

There are some instant meals but those fall out of the choice immediately. The least he can do is sit himself down and try, goddamn! Blue eyes flicker back to the beef, lips drawn into a slight pout as he regards it thoughtfully. He'd bought it on a whim when a bout of homesickness had overwhelmed him because it had reminded him of home and his mothers' cooking.

Hmm... maybe he could... If only he...

...he would need some mushrooms. Viktor knows Chris has some and will gladly share with him, his best friend. He has prevented him from wearing that gruesome purple sweater to his last date with his boyfriend after all so really Chris owes him.

(He's always been a "beg for forgiveness later instead of ask for permission" guy.)

He's got some gherkins in his fridge, too.

Ah, damn his subconscious craving for Stroganoff, it's not like he can cook the dish anyway.

...He knows someone who can though.

 

* * *

 

"He sounds like such a nice boy, Vitya, why haven't you told us you had a mate yet? You will have to bring him around for dinner some time!" A shuffle as his Mamochka got comfortable, then: "I have all those cute baby pictures and nobody to show them to."

Regret.

Viktor's single wish for Christmas is a new and better impulse control, please.

"Mamochka... He's not my mate. Yet, I mean. Please don't plan ahead of how to scare him before I even got to ask him out. Maybe it won't even work and then-..."

"Nonsense, Vitya. I did not spend half a day in labour to push out that big head of yours for you to doubt yourself!" Viktor groans and drops the wooden spoon into the sink, his eyes flickering over to the metallic fridge as his hand self-consciously tousles his bangs in his forehead. It is normal sized. Normal sized!

"Besides, that sweet boy does deserve to know what your future babies might look like. Maybe he'll change his mind once he sees what size of forehead you were born with." The groan turns into a pained whine of defeat. "Oh baby, you know I'm teasing. You have the perfect forehead, like a little dolphin."

In the background Viktor can hear his Mama giggle, then the ruffling sound of fabric and the muffled voice of his Mamochka who's covering the phone with her hand to talk to her mate. Married and mated for almost thirty years now and still very much in love. Viktor knows his mothers' relationship might have given him slight romantic complexes but he wouldn't trade it for anything else.

"Don't let your Mamochka make fun of you, одуванчик. You know we love you." His Mama coos softly into the speaker.

Viktor can just imagine them in their livingroom, curled up on the couch together with his tiny Alpha Mama tucked in against his Beta Mamochka, their hairs in messy buns on their days off and matching pyjama tops. The very same way they had always been.

"We miss our little baby boy, that's all"

"I know, Ma, I love you too. I promise to come visit during the holidays!"

Viktor leans his hip against the counter and changes the hand with which he holds the phone to carefully flip the beef and stir the onions, the hot concentrated butter sizzling and biting into the sensitive skin of his hand.

He hates cooking.

He's willing to suffer for Yuuri though.

There's a big stain on the front of his jeans where he dropped the opened glass of gherkins into his lap and another one at the front of his shirt that he doesn't remember being responsible for. Accidents in the kitchen crawl onto him like especially clingy orchids onto the most beautiful tree. And he certainly is the most beautiful tree!

Cutting onions had been another experience altogether. At least listening to Beyoncé bellowing out her sorrow in Broken Hearted Girl had given the moment enough drama for Viktor to justify his ugly sobbing.

Next to the pan the water for the pasta is bubbling joyfully. He doesn't have the correct ones but he doubts Yuuri will mind if he uses the usual kind... some type of spaghetti but thicker whose name Viktor has forgotten and doesn't bother himself with.

"Alright, baby, now take the beef and onions and keep them warm in the oven. You did remember to heat up the oven right?"

No. No he had in fact not.

"Of course!" He twists the nob and watches the heat climb while he carefully fills the beef and onions from the pan into a bowl (it's good his mothers can't see him) before pushing it into the oven.

Under the careful instructions of his mothers Viktor roasts the gherkin and mushrooms, proud of himself when only one or two turn black. He makes sure to carefully fish them out of the pan and disposing of them before adding the broth and a tad bit of white wine.

A quick look to the clock and he leans back to allow the mix to simmer peacefully without his meddling hands. The last thing he needs now when things are going this smoothly is his bad luck with every kitchen assortment he has ever touched to ruin this evening.

Now that there is an opened bottle of wine around and his mothers on the phone Viktor takes a seat on the kitchen floor and fills himself a glass. There are no more white wine glasses but he's an Adult which means there's nobody around to stop him from filling a red wine glass to the brim. Who knew an entire half a litre of white wine fit into a fancy red wine glass?

Besides, he needs something to quells his nerves before his nervous energy set the kitchen on fire on its own.

"Tell us more about him, одуванчик. Yuri, right? That's his name?"

Viktor makes a small noise and swallows his sip. "Yuuri. With a long u. Two uus, actually."

"Yuuuri."

"Yuuri."

"Yuuri."

There's something soothing in sitting on his kitchen floor, the air around him smelling like home, sipping on a drink and sounding out the name of his future mate with his parents. After all he wants the introduction between Yuuri and them to go smoothly some day so really he's only doing prevention work right there.

Viktor does not hesitate to launch into a rant about how wonderful the younger Omega is, talks about the adorable way he wrinkles his nose shortly before sneezing or how there is one single strand of hair that always sticks up. How endearing it is, the way Yuuri accidentally clinks his spoon against his teeth sometimes when eating and makes a face at himself.

He doesn't stop or stutter when talking to them about how it saddens him when Yuuri lowers his head while eating so nobody catches him licking his lips, how it makes him furious that someone made this sweet man feel unsafe enough that he got the impression that he had to hide such a simple act.

There are only two stops in his gush of words. One time to add the pasta to the boiling water and the other time at the end when the beeping of the kitchen clock interrupts him mid rant about how Yuuri made cupcakes for everybody in the dorm last finals to cheer them up and how Viktor still owns one that sits comfortably on his desk in his room.

Chris tried to throw it out once.

Chris had green hair colour hidden in his conditioner once.

The red wine glass is almost empty as Viktor stirs the rest of the ingredients into the pan, constantly sneaking glances at the clock above the stove. He still has got a little less than an hour before Yuuri should be coming home.

With a fluttering heart he says his goodbye to his mothers, promising to call again soon and " _Yes I will tell him he's a lovely boy I plan on doing exactly that tonight and then for the rest of forever bye mom bye Ma."_

The prepared food is gently moved into the oven for warm keeping before he rushes back to his room to shower once more and get rid of the buttery oil on his skin and the smell of gherkin clinging to him. He does send Chris a warning text message though that there's food in the oven and a reminder that Chris loves him very much _so pretty please keep an eye on it for me?_

He sees the response after his quick shower, water dripping into his face from his wet bangs and obscuring his sight for a moment. It's a selfie of him and Phichit in what looks like the restaurant they frequent downtown, the both of them grinning mischievously into the camera.

\- _"_ _Making sure you and your future Beau are all alone and undisturbed ;* Don't do things I wouldn't do"_

Chris really is the bestest friend. Maybe he will allow him to burrow his Burberry coat for his next date as a sign of gratitude.

Not much time is left though for mentally thanking his friend so Viktor hastily dabs scent supressing cologne on his neck and wrists, he wants to avoid overwhelming Yuuri with his excited scent on their first date, and gets dressed in his nice grey jeans (they show off his ass spectacularly!) and the blue button down that brings out his eyes.

Yuuri's words, not his.

And now. Now he can peacefully wait, set the table with candles and the fancy silverware and the flowers.

The flowers.

Which he forgot to buy.

A split second dilemma between burning down the entire dorm by leaving the oven alone without supervision or turning up to their _first date_ without flowers later, Viktor is out of the house, sprinting across the campus and into the side street, around the corner and over to the florist next to Yuuri's workplace, almost causing an accident when he doesn't check for cars.

_Damn, damn, damn!_

There is the very possible outcome that Yuuri comes home early. What would that look like, coming home to a set table without anyone around? Yuuri will think himself abandoned! His sweet, sweet little Omega will stand there, all alone and without his Alpha... Not _his_... not yet, but hopefully soon. 

He'll be quick!

The Stroganoff won't even know he had been gone!

He is in fact not quick. His heart beat is skyrocketing with every moment he spends outside of the dorm with the possibility of Yuuri coming home and him not being ready. It's just... there are a lot of flowers. Many, many more than he knows what to do with. Red, blue, white, red... a huge assortment of sizes and styles. And he has no idea which of them are appropriate for someone like Yuuri.

There are red roses but those are a cliché in themselves. White roses, very pretty but nah.

An orchid? Very pretty and-... one look at the price tag. It's not going to be an orchid.

He ambers around the shop, seeking desperate eye contact with the clerk whose sole mission that night appears to be to ignore Viktor and he in return is too proud to actively go ask for help. He can choose the flowers for his mate on his own very well, thank you very much.

(Not yet your mate, Viktor! Keep it together!)

Except that he can't.

He does try though.

In the end he chooses Chrysanthemums because they are pretty and also Asian and okay he's kind of making up excuses out of thin air _but his oven is on its own and he does not trust himself or his luck!_

The second mission of the clerk is beating snails in wrapping flowers, apparently. He's doing it so slowly Viktor begins to wonder if they share any lectures maybe and he's somehow offended him in any way. It had happened in the past... Maybe this is some kind of revenge? Maybe the clerk has got a secret vendetta against silver haired Alphas in love who try to impress sweet Yuuris and have hot food in the oven?

Once the bouquet is in his hands he throws all thoughts that are not about Yuuri or his very much burning Stroganoff out of his head and fishes his wallet out of his jeans, smearing dirt across the back pocket. Ah... well if everything goes well he'll spend the evening sitting anyway.

He pays. And then he runs.

Yuuri is not yet home when he's back and Viktor thanks whatever deity watches over stoves and ovens that the Stroganoff looks okay too and nothing is burning. Not the kitchen at least. His mental state is something else altogether.

He scouts the dorm for candles and nice candle holders, then sets the table with two sets of plates and silverware, cuts the stems of the Chrysanthemums the way his mothers showed him so they won't wilt as quickly and places the bouquet in between their two seats.

The food is still steaming, the pasta piled onto the middle of the plates and the Stroganoff affectionately draped around it. Hopefully Yuuri will be able to see just how much care Viktor had put into the preparations, will be able to taste the love with which he had cooked for him.

The way to a man's heart is after all through his stomach!

And then he's finished. He's done it, made it. Cooked dinner for his Yuuri without burning anything down! He has proven that he's capable of providing for his mate! Viktor pushes that more primal thought back into the black abyss that is his obsessed Alpha mind and lowers himself into his seat, a breathless grin on his lips. He's really done it.

Now all he can do is wait and watch Yuuri's reaction when he comes home. Will he be overwhelmed? Cry? Or give Viktor one of those fond little smiles, the one where his brows draw together and his eyes melt into soft ponds of warmth? Viktor hopes it's one of those, to be honest.

The clock strikes seven and Viktor's heart joins in, his fingers trembling restlessly atop the table until he clenches them into fists. This is it.

It's a quarter past seven when Viktor starts to pace back and forth, sending anxious looks at the front door and listening intensely to the sound of footsteps outside. The food is rapidly cooling down so Viktor moves it back into the oven to keep it warm, glancing out of the kitchen window to see if he can spot Yuuri.

At half past seven Viktor contemplates calling Yuuri, to check in to make sure nothing has happened to him. He is after all usually on time, had expressed in the past that it made him uncomfortable to be late. But Viktor doesn't want to come across as clingy, not this soon, not at the beginning of their relationship.

It's seven minutes before eight and Viktor has got his phone in hand ready to call Phichit and then Yuuri when he hears noises and footsteps outside.

He's never felt this relieved before as he lowers the phone onto the table top and runs his fingers through his hair. Before he can go and open the door for his date the sound of a key entering the lock fills the kitchen, then the clicking of the door opening and footsteps entering the hallway. Viktor's heart is thrumming against his ribcage as if seeking for a way to break free, his sweaty hands gripping his jeans for a moment.

Now only a thin wall separates himself from Yuuri! He can hear his voice already, he's so close now, he can... he can...

He can actually hear multiple voices. And multiple footsteps.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *одуванчик means dandelion
> 
> Also cliffhanger because if Viktor has to suffer so do you ;) 
> 
> I've had a couple of tiring days so I'm very glad I can hopefully make someone happy myself by writing this dorkish mess!  
> If you want to send some love my way Kudos and Comments are very appreciated, they lift my mood immensely! So do random stories of your pets, please post them in the comments :D 
> 
> Thank you for reading, you wonderful people


	4. Chapter 4

It turns into a catastrophe from there on.

The first person to enter the kitchen is decisively not Yuuri, what for the obvious lack of black hair and ample cheeks. Neither is the second. Or the third.  They seem to notice, too, that they are not what Viktor expected, their movements of taking off their coats growing slower and slower.

Viktor is frozen, his face numb where half a smile strains to stay in place, his eyes flickering from one to the second to the third, his brows slowly pulling together on his forehead to form a straight line of confusion. He does not understand?

Somewhere between the three foreign backpacks in their kitchen, Yuuri's muffled voice in the hallway and the wax of the candle dripping onto the table top behind him Viktor's mind had crashed. Turned blank, static.

The only sound he can make out is the rushing of his blood in his ears and had it always been this cold in the kitchen? Icy cold sweat drips down the back of his neck. His chest hurts. Numbly Viktor's fingers move up over his shirt to soothe the ache but _oh_ that's not an itch, that's his heart and _he does not understand,_ tries to make sense of what he's seeing and surely he's hallucinating because there are three strangers in their kitchen _._

"Yuuri?" There's a tremble to his voice he's not used to, a weakness and vulnerability he feels ashamed for in front of these people. His throat hurts from the simple word, though it's not really simple, it's loaded with questions, feelings. Though maybe the pain is coming from Viktor trying to keep the emotions down, too. He doesn't understand, simply does not understand. Or maybe he does on some level because otherwise his throat wouldn't close up and his eyes wouldn't itch this way.

"Viktor!"

Yuuri's presence in the kitchen is supposed to make him feel better. He has been looking forward to this all day after all, has been dreading and waiting for this moment with baited breath at the same time.

But fact is, it doesn't.

No, not at all, because Yuuri is wind swept and red cheeked, his glasses slipping down his nose and his hair tousled and he's so beautiful it hurts. But the confusion on his face and the way he halts while taking off his scarf is what has Viktor clench his jaw and turn around under pretence of straightening the silverware. As if he is not surprised by three other men in their kitchen.

As if Yuuri did not expect this.

This - Viktor standing in the kitchen with their lovingly cooked dinner, dressed in his nicest clothes, waiting, waiting for _him._

It hurts... It's almost a bit surprising how much it hurts.

"Viktor... uh, I'm sorry, we misjudged the time and-... and it got a bit later than we thought it would." Viktor can hear the puzzlement in the Omega's voice and it drives the knife in that bit deeper. "And, uhm... But, since you made dinner I thought... I mean, we kind of missed the lunch break because we were so busy and I thought... I thought since you had offered to cook... I thought I could invite them over?"

Of course. Kind, polite Yuuri. Always thinking about other people, always looking out for others.

Viktor's shoulders tense, then strain to lower back down where he's still turned away from the group, swallowing once, twice and trying to relax the hands balled into the table cloth.

He wants to ask what is going on. Wants to laugh and cry at the same time because this can't be happening, why are there three other people. Wants to take Yuuri by the shoulders and shake him and question what he's thinking, why he's doing this.

But he doesn't.

Can't.

He's frozen, still. Numb.

Forces himself to move, to breath in slowly. He blinks a couple of times to clear his head from the insistent buzzing that leaves it sluggish and empty, not able to form a coherent thought. Viktor is aware that he needs to do something, needs to answer at least so he pries his lips apart and tries to remember how to speak.

"Sure." Where his voice had been vulnerable before it's rough with supressed emotions now so he swallows once more and pushes them deeper underneath the numbness spreading through his chest that is slowly replaced by something else.

"Sure, yes. Let me just set the table." Viktor pries his hands off the tablecloth, leaving behind nail shaped imprints that he straightens out with great care to bring the tremble in his hands under control.

He shouldn't be mad.

He shouldn't.

Taking care of others, looking out for them, it's a quality he adores in Yuuri after all, so he shouldn't be mad.

But he is.

It's thrumming under his skin, replacing the cold tremble of before with steadily growing warmth that climbs into his cheeks and ears and chest until it replaces the stabbing hurt.

It overlays his mind like a fine sheen and makes it that much harder to make sense of the situation.

The boiling in his chest turns his movements stiff and abrupt, the task of placing the plates on the table almost impossible. He is so goddamn close to tossing them to the ground and demanding those three backpacks get the hell out of his kitchen right now that the porcelain clinks loudly on the table top with the force he uses to set them down. But Yuuri is looking at him, he can feel it, even if for the first time Viktor does not really want to look up and meet his eyes.

Yuuri is looking at him as if _he_ does not understand, as if Viktor is the puzzle to solve in this situation and it takes so much of Viktor not to toss his head back and laugh because he's aware of the manic hysteria climbing up his throat. Instead he blows out the candles to make more place for the plates and if that isn't a good metaphor for how the evening has turned out he doesn't know what is.

Then there's the flowers.

Viktor hesitates just then, when he's faced with the flowers, hand on the vase and staring at the Chrysanthemums. Slowly, slowly his breath escapes him in a long exhale, his eyes falling shut against the memory of the day he had gone through. All for nothing, as it seems. All of it wasted.

No.

No, this is still Yuuri.

He is just angry right now. But this is still Yuuri.

Viktor shakes his head and removes his hand from the vase, leaves it sitting there in the middle of the table set for five now.

Five.

Another slow exhale.

"Okay. Okay." He mumbles, more to himself than anybody else and motions to the set places without looking up. "Well, sit down then. I'll get the food."

The Stroganoff is still steaming after an hour in the warm oven and Viktor sets it down on one side of the flowers, the noodles on the other and himself in front of them.

It's awkward and silent and Yuuri is still looking at him.

Yuuri is looking at him and there is a frown drawing his brows together, his teeth sunken into his lower lip in worry and really that is all it takes to drain the harshest of his anger out of Viktor. Instead he feels exhausted. Tired and defeated and numb.

"Viktor? Are-... Is everything okay?" Kind, polite Yuuri, who always looks out for others, looking out for Viktor now.

Viktor still does not really understand. But he forces the corners of his lips up into a smile none the less for Yuuri, if just to ease the frown out of his brows. He wants to run his thumb over his bottom lip and soothe it where Yuuri's teeth have left behind deep marks. Because that's just how it is. That's just who he is when it comes to Yuuri.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Everything is fine."

It doesn't really get better after that and if Viktor is honest with himself he's not making a big effort except for the forced smile that stays frozen on his face for the rest of the dinner. Because it hurts, still. Aches and burns in his chest, clogs up his throat.

He can't get much of his Stroganoff down.

It tastes nothing like the one his mothers make for him, lays heavy on his tongue and sits even more heavily in his stomach. There's too much sugar in it. Most of the meat is overcooked.

It all tastes ashen to him anyway.

Once or twice one of the intruders (because really that is what they are and it's so much easier to direct his mess of negative emotions at them instead of at Yuuri) tries to initiate small talk but it subsides as quickly as it comes up under Viktor's frozen demeanour and stiff movements. He's aware that they are exchanging looks. Of pity, of confusion. None of them make it better for Viktor. 

Near the end of the dinner (can it really be called a dinner?) he excuses himself with a couple of words he can't really remember and puts his used dishes into the sink, murmurs to the... _guests_ to do the same once they are done. The urge to leave is overwhelming, sitting under his skin and bone like an insistent itch he can't scratch. He can't breath, too many feelings clogging up his throat and choking him. He needs to get out!

Yuuri's eyes follow him to the door, burning into his back during all the time it takes him to put on his shoes and coat, suffocate him until he closes the door behind himself. There are messages on his phone from Chris he doesn't bother to read, only rams his hands deeper into his pockets and marches over the campus, into the streets and the nightlife of a busy city on a Saturday night.

He does not understand.

He does not understand why Yuuri had done that, why he had brought people to their date. Had Viktor not expressed himself correctly, had Yuuri not known? Had Viktor been the only one under the impression that they had a date? Somehow that thought stung, buried under his skin now that he has had it and spreading like a disease.

Had Yuuri not _wanted_ for it to be a date?

Had he brought people over to disrupt it, because he hadn't felt comfortable to reject Viktor directly?

Viktor follows the winding streets downtown, past the library and his favourite clothing store that's closed at this time of night, past the little café and bakery where he likes to buy breakfast on lazy days. Stops by the bar opposite of the bank, the one with the wooden interior and considers a drink. Alcohol doesn't solve his problems, he knows, but he's not good at handling emotions and right now he's aching to replace the hurt in his chest with pleasant buzzing numbness.

Still he turns and walks into the opposite direction because that bar is a place he and Yuuri go to a lot and Viktor might be a bit of a masochist but he's not willing to expose himself to that kind of pain after tonight.

But if Yuuri had not wanted for it to be a date, if he had planned for it to be a disruption, surely he wouldn't have looked at Viktor like that. So confused and worried, as if he was trying to understand what the mess of emotions not even Viktor had been able to decipher in that moment meant.

Surely if he had known it to be a date and had planned to ruin it (because that really is what had happened, hadn't it?) then he would have known about the pain he was causing, right?

Viktor finds a bench on the walkway, plops down with all of the grace of an obese Chihuahua and watches the people passing by with absentminded interest.

Yuuri would not be that cruel, right? Sweet Yuuri who cries during animal shelter commercials, who talks to his pillows in the morning to promise them he'll return and not to miss him too much, who buys sweaters two sizes too big because he likes the way he can nuzzle into the collar.

He would not be that cruel.

Maybe it's the ache in his chest, the anger of before, the memory of his wasted efforts but a tiny voice in his head whispers, whispers that he can't know for sure, reminds Viktor that Yuuri's form of attack is avoidance, that bringing in people to a date is a type of avoidance too. It whispers until Viktor's grip on his leg turns painful and his jaw is clenched shut, until he has to actively keep himself from pacing back and forth.

Viktor doesn't want to believe that. There is still that large part of himself that adores Yuuri above everything else, that part of himself that _needs_ Yuuri.

And he knows it's not healthy. He's aware of that. Has locked that part of himself away, the part that worships the Omega, is obsessed with him. But maybe this is good in some twisted way, good for himself. Good to allow himself to be angry, at himself, at Yuuri, at his stupid decisions. Maybe it'll help him take Yuuri down from that pedestal he's put him upon since the first time those fawn eyes had looked at him.

It's hard to see someone as perfect after they have hurt you like this.

With a low groan Viktor tips his head back against the bench, buries his hands into his hair and stares up into the black night sky.

It's getting colder. Maybe it'll snow soon.

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor's not sure how long he sits there, his hands in his coat and staring into the thin air. His breath fogs up his vision from time to time, joints growing stiff in the cold. There's a stain on the tip of his left loafer.

Eventually he gets up, wanders a bit further into the city to return warmth into his limbs. But the knowledge that his thoughts are only going in circles and that he's driving himself insane unless he talks to Yuuri to get some answers makes him turn around before long and trek back home.

He's calmer now. Still hurt, but the pain doesn't cloud his mind anymore and the anger has faded, not altogether but enough to allow him to think rationally. Maybe the cold of the night had frozen it out of him.

The lights are still on in their kitchen but it's mercifully empty and silent in their dorm, no sign of foreign pairs of shoes in their hallway or strange backpacks. The door closes with a soft click, casting the stretch of the corridor leading into the kitchen in deep black shadows. Viktor takes his outdoor clothes off there in the dark, hangs up his coat and sorts his loafers in with the rest of his shoes. Stands there for a moment and lets himself be at ease.

He makes it into the kitchen, next. The table is empty, cleaned of the tablecloth and flowers and dishes. So is the sink. It's all spotless, as if the dinner had never happened. Maybe that's good. If he wants to talk to Yuuri he needs to stay this cool, collected.

As if summoned there's movements by the door leading into the living room, a low reading light on the coffee table lighting up the room and casting it into a warm glow.

Yuuri stands there between the couch and the table. Book in hand as if he doesn't know what to do with it. There are dark circles under his eyes, hair messed up by nervous fingers running through it. It reminds Viktor of the way Yuuri looks during the stressful times of finals when he's barely slept and running on coffee made with redbull.

It hits Viktor at once that Yuuri stayed up and waited for him, most likely cleaned the kitchen, too, and that makes whatever of the mindless anger had lingered fade completely.

Yuuri looks small, shoulders drawn together and eyes large behind his glasses. Distressed. His lower lip bitten bloody, hands trembling. Like that he reminds Viktor of a frightened deer. He knows it's because of him, knows, and that brings forth another kind of emotion altogether.

The guilt builds up slowly, spreads from his chest into his throat and escapes in a gentle sigh before Viktor takes a step towards the distraught looking thing standing so very lost in their living room.

"Hey." Viktor rounds the couch to stop in front of Yuuri, offering him a soft smile. "You didn't have to wait up for me."

Yuuri finally puts the book down on the coffee table, wrings his hands together as if he doesn't know what to do with them now that they aren't holding on to something. He hesitates, wraps his arms around his own waist, then drops them again to his sides.

"I just... I just wanted to talk. You were-... earlier, I mean, you were acting so oddly and you looked so sad and-..." Viktor sighs softly, again, stops the rambling with a hand stroking a lock of black hair behind Yuuri's ear. He watches patiently as Yuuri's brown eyes flicker around the room, too restless to settle on anything for a long time before finally meeting his.

"And I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay. Between us, I mean. Are... Are you mad at me? Did I do something?" And he sounds so anxious and scared, so confused that Viktor swallows his questions about the dinner and Yuuri's intentions and own worries down, bans them away somewhere dark for now. Because this is Yuuri and why did he even ever try not to prioritise him over his own stupid feelings? There's a new ache in his chest now, replacing the painful one from before. An ache that calls out to Yuuri again.

Yuuri who had been so anxious since Viktor had left that he had cleaned the kitchen spotless. Yuuri who stayed up waiting for him because he had been too worried to sleep.

He is still his precious Yuuri, after all.

No. Not his.

It's time to stop with that. Yuuri is not his, he is Yuuri. Yuuri who might make mistakes too, and yes, Viktor feels very strongly for him, but Yuuri is just human, too.

He'll work on that, keep that in mind. Yuuri is not his and maybe he overdid it, maybe he needs to let go a little.

For now he allows himself this moment.

"We are okay, Yuuri. It was nothing, just a stressful day, really. It's okay, I'm not mad. Not at you. At myself, a bit, but not at you."

Allows a little lie. Baby steps for his own sanity.

It's obvious Yuuri doesn't belief him in the way he pinches his brows together and sucks that abused lip back between his teeth. Viktor frees it with a deliberate stroke of his thumb.

"Don't give me that face, you'll get wrinkles." A tired curl twitches in the corner of Yuuri's lip, not enough by far for his dimple to show but it's better than the frown so Viktor counts it as a victory.

"It really was nothing." He mumbled at the same time as Yuuri whispers a soft "I'm sorry that I made you unhappy."

And that hurts, too. That Yuuri thinks he could ever make Viktor unhappy in any way. But how do you explain to someone that they are the thing you look forward to the most in your day, that they make your chest light and fluttery and warm, that they colour your day in bright shades, that they possess control of your every thought?

Baby steps. He'll need to work on that.

It hurts in a different way than today had hurt. But it's okay, for now.

"Oh Yuuri... don't be silly, as if you could ever make me unhappy. Someone as cute as you, that's simply impossible. Scientifically proven. I'm sure we can Google that! Do you want me to google that? _Can cute little Yuuris make you unhappy_? Ah, but I can already see the police at our door, arresting me for googling such a stupid question. Questioning that is a real crime!"

He's rambling, grinning a grin that doesn't feel as stiff anymore and sighing dramatically until Yuuri smiles in return, relieved, and collapses into his arms.

The rest of the strain vanishes from Viktor's grin, turning it soft and genuine and gentle. Viktor wraps his arms around him, tucks Yuuri's head in under his chin and closes his eyes.

There had never been a question about whether or not he would continue pursuing Yuuri. He had never really questioned that. This is all he needs.

No, not all. But Yuuri does make him so very happy.

He'll come up with better ideas. He'll make Yuuri understand, he's sure. He just needs to be patient now.

He's so weak for this man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> not really satisfied with this chapter 
> 
> I'll be taking a vacation next week so there won't be any uploads next Saturday. I do have a drabble I might post though if you are interested, it's set in a different AU than this one. 
> 
> For every comment/kudo I'll pet my dog

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fic so please do criticise me if there are things I should work on :) 
> 
>  Updates every Friday/Saturday 
> 
> Kudos & Comments are greatly appreciated and will help me survive Finals
> 
> Also I got a Tumblr now so come and yell at me there to motivate me :D  
> https://instanttypo.tumblr.com/


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